


a journey to become; torn knees, battered heart, I just want to live

by daretogobeyondtheunknown



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: F/F, topics: abandonment, topics: shame
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2018-01-22
Packaged: 2019-02-22 19:12:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13173387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daretogobeyondtheunknown/pseuds/daretogobeyondtheunknown
Summary: The tragedy of life is often not in our failure, but rather in our complacency; not in our doing too much, but rather in our doing too little; not in our living above our ability; but rather in our living below our capacities.Benjamin E. Mays





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The tragedy of life is often not in our failure, but rather in our complacency; not in our doing too much, but rather in our doing too little; not in our living above our ability; but rather in our living below our capacities.
> 
> Benjamin E. Mays

“I am doing the best I can!”

It feels like a confession, an admission to a lie; cumbersome and heavy. Things  _aren’t_ better than this.  _This_ is the best you can offer.

The silence is stifling. It steals your breath and arrests your heart. You’re dying and the only cure lies in the words you can’t make, the sounds you can’t hear, and the lies you can’t tell.

The door that clicks shut is the gentle  _tap_ , the proverbial nail to the coffin. It feels like a bullet, torn through your heart. It leaves behind a mess - barely recognizable bits of a once strong heart, a once living soul.

As you crumple to the ground - cold and unforgiving on your broken form - bubbled laughter, more akin to a broken sob than jubilance, burst from your lungs. How fitting you think, the cold floor and open air your only companions. They offer no solace to the quandary.

If only you could have been better.

-

“Doctor Danvers, do you have a moment?”

Swiveling her chair round, Alex smiled at the labs newest addition -   _Grierson_ \- a sentiment surely lost behind the pleated surgical mask, “Just Alex, Grierson. We’re all people. I put my pants on the same way you do. What’s up?”

The intern blushed, nodding his head so fiercely his charcoal grey slim tie seemed to gain a life all its own, “Right. Course,” the thick frames of his rectangular glasses slide down the bridge of his nose, instinctually being pushed back up, “I was hoping, again if you have a moment, if you could provide any insight on my research proposal.”

Motioning to the fumigation hood behind her and the samples within, Alex nodded, “Of course. I just have a few preparations to finish. Pull up a chair, Grierson, I’ll just be a moment.”

-

The apartment was quiet when she entered  - it always was.

Her black leather coat clung like a second skin. Often times, colleagues would comment, suggest new brands, new styles. But Alex preferred it that way. Even if it was a size too small - a size she’d grown since her early adult years - the coat would be something she wore into her dying days.

“Hey Phen,” she greeted with a gentle nudge of her toe against the feline pressing into her leg.

He was a rescue. Alex had found him attempting to navigate the waste bins outside the apartment. His patterns suggested a Siberian breed and his propensity for alienating all forms of life, with the exception of Alex, seemed rather ironic to the biomedical engineer.

“What do you want to eat tonight?” she asked curiously as he walked faithfully by her side to stand before the fridge.

Staring down the barren contents of the fridge, nose scrunched and brows furrowed, Alex let the door swing shut. Phen meowed.

“It was your turn to shop, Phen! I told you,” Alex joked good-naturedly with the cat, chuckling at the apparent objection the cat offered in return, “Of course, how could I forget. Take out it is. How does Thai sound?”

Alex would never admit it, but Phen’s appearance had been a saving grace to a very downward spiral.

-

“How have you been, Alex?”

“Good. Better.”

“How has work been?”

“Another day, another test,” Alex joked. It still felt awkward. She still felt awkward.

“And your homework? How did that go?”

Patting the notebook tucked safely in her satchel, Alex offered the best quasi-smile she could muster. It felt more like a grimace, “Good. I have it here if you’d like to see.”

It felt all kinds of awkward and it made Alex squirm on the white leather - faux leather? - couch. But she wouldn’t change it. She needed this. God knows she needed more than this. But for now, this would have to do.

“I had another one. It felt like I was dying - suffocating and gutting,” closing her eyes, Alex exhaled heavily, “It was terrifying. All over again.”

-

“I think I’ve got it!”

With a wide smile, Alex clasped the young man on the shoulder, “Well done, Grierson.” Peering down at his work, months of preparation followed by over a year of work in corroboration with other institutes, Alex knew he would do amazing things. One day. If he chose to. “Shall we review it?”

It was late. The other members of the lab had long left and the sun had followed shortly after. Alex had been preparing for a lecture she would be teaching the following morning and a large part of her wanted nothing more than to leave, go home, rest.

But the way his eyes glistened in excitement and his joy bubbled out in the up and down shake of his legs, Alex knew she was making the right choice.

“So, whatcha got?” She asked, dragging over the nearest chair.

-

Alex set the book down.

It hurt. The words on the page. The realities it unearthed. She couldn’t change the past; no matter how hard she tried, how hard she wished, or how hard she begged. No matter how much guilt she piled high on her shoulders and no matter how much she worried over what once was, it would never change her future. That was what her therapist said.

Therapist.

How clinical.

Eyeing the book that now rest on the floor - a coffee table was  _too much_  effort and Alex couldn’t be bothered to own furniture she didn’t need - she sighed. She  _was_ fodder for therapists; she  _was_ clinical. But Alex was done trying to pretend like she knew the answers to her failing life, tired of pretending she could go it alone.

Phen mewed softly, his paw planting oddly against Alex’s cheek. She wasn’t the only one with nightmares and a previous life of haunting. Maybe, one day, they could both be okay again. Just okay. Alex would be okay with that.

_I am doing the best I can_.

Or maybe, maybe she wasn’t.

-

Alex coughed, attempting to hide her mirth behind her fist, as Grierson offered the most awkward of soothing pats to the back of his fellow lab member. Vasquez’s sobs goodbye  _always_ made the interns a little uncomfortable. That amount of mucus and hyperventilation would make anyone slightly uncomfortable.

Five years had given Alex some immunity. Well, at least when others where the victim of drowning tears and vice grip goodbye hugs.   

“Okay, V,” Alex intervened when the unnatural hue of blue began showing even on his dark skin, “You’re going to kill the boy, let go,” she said with a shooing motion.

“Thanks,” Grierson said with a lopsided smile, his signature tie creased and askew, “I appreciate it, Dr. Danvers.”

Alex chuckled at the way the formality still slipped out. Even with two years of constant insistence and reminders.

“You’re a good guy, Grierson,” Alex said as she drew the young man down and into a side hug, “Cambridge is going to be lucky to have you.” Alex hated goodbyes and Grierson’s addition to the team had been a warm change. He brought a soft spirit, open curiosity and hunger to learn that was rare. Alex would miss him.

Wrapping his arms about Alex and drawing her a foot off the ground, Grierson smiled brightly, “Thank you for everything, Dr. Danvers. I am going to make you proud.”

“You already have, Grierson. You already have.”

-

“Is everything alright, Alex? You seem a bit out of sorts.”

“A young man - brilliant, kind-hearted, and genuine - was offered a position in a prestigious doctoral program overseas. Today was his last day.”

“That is an amazing opportunity for the young man and his future.”

“I know.”

“Does it bother you?”

Sinking back into the couch - faux leather - Alex prayed to all the Gods she didn’t believe in. She prayed that this couch - faux leather couch - would part at the seams and swallow her whole. Erase her from existence.

“It’s selfish. I know. He just,” Alex bit back her tears - a mixture of frustration and sorrow - her hands bunching the edge of her shirt with enough force to hurt. If fabric could feel. Alex wished it could. Then maybe, it would feel a fraction of the hurt she felt. “They were similar. And I’m losing someone all over again.”

Alex knew her therapist couldn’t take away the pain; couldn’t take away the way it made her heart break and her chest clench. But for once, Alex wished it wouldn’t hurt  _so very much_.

“He hasn’t left  _you_ , Alex. He didn’t leave to hurt you. No one has.”

“She did.”

“Love isn’t that easy, Alex.”

“It sure felt like it was for her.”

-

Phen meowed.

Alex refused to move. To answer his cries of concern and perhaps hunger. Alex just wanted to lay until the particles in her body deteriorated, becoming one with the ceramic white of the tub in a last desperate attempt to exist.

Phen landed on her stomach - likely having scaled the toilet to have achieved such a feat. Alex felt breathless. She should have filled the tub with water. It would have kept him out, “Phen, out,” Alex wheezed, “Can’t you see I’m wallowing? Let me wallow, damn it!”

Leave it to the cat to suddenly feign ignorance, settling down so close on her chest that his paws pressed into the soft flesh of her neck and his nose nearly touched her chin.

“Phen, go,” Alex tried in another weak attempt. It did nothing to deter the feline.

Grudgingly accepting the company, Alex wrapped her arms up and over his out stretched form. In the tub of her dingy apartment, Alex fell apart, the sobs catching in the soft grey white fur. What escaped, caught on the walls of the room, sounding every bit haunted and forlorn.

-

The book sailed across the room, landing with a thud when it collided with the wall. Floorbound. Like how Alex felt. Trapped by factors she couldn’t control.

Curling up in the middle of the floor, Alex barked out a laugh. It sounded spiteful; angry. The floor was still cold, still unforgiving.

Only this time as she broke apart, a small warm ball of fur cuddled against her head. Suffocating in kindness and understanding.

“Why, Phen? Why? Am I not worth staying by?”

-

“I didn’t do it,” admitted Alex as she sunk into the white cushions - faux leather, “I just cried. Like some weeping, helpless sap. I wasn’t an adult. I wasn’t composed.”

“Everyone cries, Alex. Even adults. It’s okay to cry.”

Cursing at the warmth prickling the corners of her eyes, Alex traced invisible patterns into the white stucco: a cloud; an erlenmeyer flask; Phen. “Then why does it feel so wrong? Why do I feel  _pathetic_? Why can’t _I_  be better? Tell me why!”

“I don’t know why, Alex. For everyone it’s different but we all pick it up somehow. At some point. But that doesn’t make it right. You  _are_ enough, Alex. You  _are_ normal. What you’re feeling  _is_  normal. Where did you learn that who you are isn’t enough, Alex? Who taught you that it’s wrong to experience these emotions?”

The burning rage deflated from the marrow of her being, sinking Alex further into the couch - faux leather. For once, Alex didn’t wish it would open its maw, swallow her whole. No, now? Now she wished it would infuse an understanding and insight Alex seemed to lack. Here. In this area. Called life.

“I don’t- I don’t know. I’ve always felt like I was never enough - could never be enough. Like the moment I was born, I was born unworthy and inadequate.” Pressing the heels of her palms into the sockets of her eyes, Alex tried to visualize the words. Of the book. On her floor. Pages bent. Cover dented.

“Have you ever considered, Alex, that the way you’ve felt isn’t the truth?”

“But what about-” the words flowed from her before she could think and Alex had to bite down hard to prevent what might come next.

But maybe her therapist did know her better than Alex had ever given her credit, “What about what your mother said? What all the other people said?”

Alex nodded timidly.

“Has it ever occurred to you, Alex, that they might be wrong?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We all make mistakes, have struggles, and even regret things in our past. But you are not your mistakes, you are not your struggles, and you are here now with the power to shape your day and your future.
> 
> Steve Maraboli

“Hey.”

The voice drew Alex from her work. Not that she was really working. More like staring blankly. “He-” coughing away the disuse in her voice, Alex attempted again, “Hey V, what’s up? How did the field samples turn out?”

Alex withered under the gaze of her friend: heavy, scrutinizing, but never expectant. Maybe that’s what drew Alex to the passionately ranting student oh so many years ago. Big heart. No expectation. God knows Alex always failed them anyways.

“You’re beating yourself up again.” Vasquez said, like she was privy to the internal monologue Alex barely understood herself.

Grabbing the nearest chair, Vasquez settled in: one small lunchbox between them and an ominous stack of papers just out of Alex’s reach. Popping a grape, Vasquez grabbed the first paper.

Following suit, grape popped into her mouth, Alex smiled. Vasquez always got it; got her. Rifling through the stationary holder on her desk, Alex wordlessly slid the pink ink fine point Sharpie across the desk surface, earning her a broad smile and affirmative nod.

Maybe she knew Vasquez, too.

-

“Sometimes I feel like I’m not enough. Like it’s something I’ve done that chases people away. People who are supposed to love me. People I love.”

“Would you like to talk about it?”

If Alex was honest, if she followed the feeling that has settled in her gut, made a home, set up shop, then no, Alex didn’t want to talk about it. Talking about it seemed so counterintuitive. Like a recipe for eminent disaster. But then again, her life had already crumbled past the state of eminent disaster long before  _this_ had come along. “I guess.”

“Whatever you’re ready to offer, Alex.”

“I don’t think I’m ready for anything,” Alex admitted, palms suddenly sweaty. “But not ready got me here. It got me the mess you get to deal with.”

“At least you get the couch.”

Alex snorted, “Exactly. I’d have left long ago if you didn’t have the couch.”

“It is an amazing couch.”

“Faux leather,” Alex mumbled, ignoring the slightly puzzled expression that blossomed on the face of her therapist, “It was cold - rainy,” it felt like the opening monologue to a sappy drama: the tragedy of her life, “And I’d just spent the last two hours searching through the woods. I’d found the perfect flowers. I was proud of them. Excited to share them. But my mother didn’t share my enthusiasm. I remember her lips, downturned: I’d been gone too long, become too muddy, and listened too poorly.” Wishing for the umpteenth time that the room would have windows, Alex settled for tracing lines in stucco, “I was four.”

-

The sabbatical was a long time coming.

For years, Alex had plowed through. Hoped for the best. Hoped to be the exception not the norm. But facts didn’t lie and without a plan, by default, Alex had followed the norm. Wishing was never a strategy. Not a good one anyways.

Phen was grateful. It meant more time with him. More walks. Vasquez had said he was odd that way. He loved his lead. Loved his walks. Loved navigating Alex through God knows what to get to God knows where.

At least he still hated people, Alex mused as they avoided the seventh human being set on oohing and awing over a cute cat in his lead and his disheveled owner.

As their walk came to an end, Alex crouched down, holding her palm open and angled towards him. It was a trick she had been working on, “Awesome Phen! High paw!” Of course, unlike Alex, Phen refused to subscribe to norms. Or rather, what could possibly be normal about having a cat high paw.

No, instead what would Phen do? Phen would lung. Head always connecting hard with her chest. Most of the time, Alex caught him. Sometimes, Alex fell. Regardless of how, it always made her laugh, rich and obnoxious.

-

Starfished, Alex allowed her eyes to roam the smooth surface above her.

“Phen?”

The cat offered a half-hearted meow, caught somewhere between sleep and wakefulness.

“Thank you,” it felt stupid. Confessing thanks to a feline who hadn’t always been a part of her life. To something that couldn’t speak in return; offer thought or commentary. But this small bundle of life had been the gift she never asked for and Alex was grateful. No matter how crazy it might seem.

-

“When I lost my dad, I never thought my heart could ever hurt that much again.”

Alex basked in the silence, hunched over onto her side with her feet still planted on the ground. Hardly comfortable. But maybe that was the point. None of this was comfortable, why should her seat be?

“I sense a  _but_.”

“Heh, yeah, but,” Alex said sardonically, “Then my mother refused to acknowledge me when I admitted to her I was gay. The last straw of disappointment I guess. Broke the proverbial camel’s back. Then  _she_ left. I guess I can’t really blame her,” Alex motioned to her pitiful form, “Who wouldn’t? But I’m getting better.” Alex amended, licking at her suddenly dry lips. “Sort of. I’m trying.”

“You are. And I’m proud of you, Alex.”

Alex imagined it was a paid response. Part of the job, the make people better part. But a part of Alex couldn’t help but feel the sincerity behind the words and without permission her chest clenched and her eyes burned. Words didn’t exist, but Alex managed some mangled form of nonverbal thanks: thank you for being proud of me; thank you for being here with me; thank you for helping me become something again.

-

The phone rang.

“Danvers,” Alex answered mid french toast flip. It wasn’t that Alex was overly fond of the breakfast food. Rather, she was tired of eggs, toast and a side of cut fruit.

Habits were a powerful thing and when she had struggled most, Alex found the patterns of her habits abusive; destructive.

Among other things, food had become the option that Alex had learned to forgo rather than partake. It had left her fatigued, delirious, and in its place stood alcohol, cigarettes, drugs and a lifestyle Alex could barely recognize.

Before the therapist had been the hospitalization: the breaking point Alex never thought she could reach. Therapy had been the agreed terms of release and while Alex had wanted nothing more than to remain in ignorance, something had to give. She was tired of pretending.

She had help; creating structure, creating change. It was simple and yet nothing about it was simple. Everyday Alex had to choose. Choose to take one more step.

The diet was scheduled, preplanned and simple and it became one of many plans; many habits.

The habits made it easier. They gave Alex the consistency she felt her life always seemed to lack.

“Dr. Danvers, you’ll never believe it. The diagnostics equipment here-”

Sliding the toast off and onto the plain ceramic plate - two slices and small bowl of yogurt Alex had found in the back of the fridge - Alex smiled at the enthusiasm of the former lab student. The soft laughter rung through the stillness of the space and a warmth settled somewhere in the pit of her gut, “Woah, Grierson, remember to breathe.”

“Oh, right. It’s just, you won’t believe it! They have-”

-

“Phen, wait,” Alex groaned as the Siberian darted out from the bush he’d brought them into.

Twigs and leaves protruding from her hair, Alex stumbled onto the path. Barely balanced on her own two feet, Alex missed the figure charging her way, coffee in hand. But Alex felt it. Wore it, really.

“Oh, gosh, I am just- oh, I’m so sorry!”

It burned. Seeped through the thin fabric of the tee-shirt that hung from her frame. Two sizes too big. The leather of her jacket seemed to have caught a portion of the liquid. It made Alex frantic. The liquid on leather.

“Fuck,” she barked, swiping frantically, striping the leather to wipe it across the legs of her jeans.  

“I am so sorry, I can- here.”

There was a napkin - or rather several - but what gave Alex pause wasn’t the napkins. Nor was it the coffee. Eyes clenched shut, Alex began counting backwards. One hundred seemed like as good a place as any to start.

“Oh, Rao, are you okay?”

It was sincere. Always so sincere. Soft hearted. Everything Alex wasn’t.

“Yeah, fine, just-” Alex gulped. In silence, she prayed the way it caught, the hoarse tone, would be enough. Enough to leave it be. For her to just leave. But it wasn’t. Alex  _knew_.

“A-Alex?”

Eyes still screwed shut, Alex felt the presence of Phen by her side, shoulder pressed reassuringly against her ankle, “Yeah,” Alex wheezed, the tension in her chest making it difficult to breathe. Panic attacks seemed a norm these past few years. They lurked in the shadows of everyday objects, jumping out at random.

There was a gasp and Alex wished it wasn’t so familiar.

“Are you- Alex, are you okay? Say something. You’re scaring me.”

When had she not?

Clutching the leather tightly, her knuckles undoubtedly white, Alex supplied the best quasi-smile she could muster, “Sorry. Long day.”

It wasn’t. Alex had only just woken up and at ten after nine in the morning on a Wednesday no less, Alex imagined most other people had as well. It was the lie easier told than the truth.

But was it? Easier. To lie. Lies had undoubtedly been a large part of what Alex  _knows_ lead to their untimely destruction all those years ago.

“No. Sorry. That came out wrong,” Alex amended, folding her arms across her chest, “I honestly- I never thought you’d ever be  _here_.” with me was unsaid; outside of my nightmares, unspoken.

“I know right? What are the odds?” Kara asked with excitement before realization seemed to dawn on her features, “Oh! I’m late!”

Alex felt her heart break. Kara was leaving. Again.

“Here.”

Alex jumped at the feeling of cold fingers on her elbow. Raising her eyes, Alex noticed Kara, smiling sheepishly with a pen in hand. The ink felt like lead; heavy and toxic.

“Call me. We’ll grab coffee sometime!”

And like that, Kara walked out of Alex’s life for the second time.

When words returned and Alex semi trusted herself enough to function - to walk, to speak - she dialed the digits that had become more muscle memory than she’d have cared to admit. 

The receptionist was warm, welcoming as always. Maybe it was her tone, or sheer luck, but it worked out perfectly. It rarely worked out perfectly. Her therapist had an afternoon slot. 

Alex accepted without hesitance.

-

It helped. Somewhat.

More than anything, Alex crumpled into that damn couch - faux leather - feeling utterly broken, lifeless. Tears burned the edges of her eyes: internally free flowing, externally frozen. It felt a little like death, or what Alex imagined her death might feel like. The couch felt a little bit like relief.

“Alex?”

“Can I just sit here? I know-” bile tracked upwards and Alex bit down hard to keep it contained.

“Of course you can Alex. If you need anything, I’m right here.”

The scratching of the pen against paper and the rhythmic tick tock of the analogue clock settled Alex in a way oxymorphone or alprazolam once had. Perhaps it was some twisted form of coping, but Alex  _knew:_ alone she would fall, a swift and deadly descent. The way her skin itched, her stomach churned and her heart pumped.

Alex  _wanted_ to live and  _this_ was the only way she currently knew how.

-

The buzzing wouldn’t stop.

Blindly, Alex groped for the source. Instinct whispered to silence it: toss it far, toss it hard. Responsibility swiped across the screen, mumbling into the speaker semi-coherently, “Danvers.” It was militaristic. Detached. An old habit Alex had picked up years ago.

“Dr. Danvers, I’m sorry, I woke you. The time change-”

Alex sat abruptly, the tendrils of sleep chased to the farthest corners of her mind, “Grierson?” inquired Alex, grimacing under the bright light of the afternoon sun filtering through her windows.

“I can call back. You must be busy,” his voice sounded strained, frazzled.

“As busy as an over priced toll road,” Alex mumbled around a yawn, “Trust me, I’ve got time. What’s wrong, Grierson?”

“I don’t know, Dr. Danvers. I keep messing up. I can’t seem to get anything right. They’re going to realise I’m not a good candidate and send me back. I’m so sorry. I-”

“Woah, woah, back up,” swiping her palm down the side of her face, Alex rolled out of bed, intent on brewing a cup of tea. Anything to keep herself present, “Take a deep breath and start from the beginning.”

-

“Ginger tea?”

Alex shrugged, distant and aloof, “I stopped drinking coffee.”

“But you loved coffee,” Kara stated in disbelief, her own steaming mug loosely cupped between her palms, “What changed?”

_Everything_ , Alex wanted to say.

“I thought I loved it,” absorbed in the hustle and bustle of the passing foot traffic, Alex exhaled, her words a whisper caught in the wind, “Until I realised I couldn’t cope without it.”

The air hung heavy; a mixture of the muggy summer and the words Alex could not unsay.

“So you moved back?” Alex asked, diverting the topic.  _Deflect, deflect, deflect._

“A few months ago actually! I accepted a position with CatCo Media.”

It worked.

“James and I thought it would be a great chance. A great career.”

Sort of.

-

Crumpling back into the door of her apartment, Alex felt numb.

Kara was happy; healthy. From the way she smiled to the way she walked, Alex  _saw_ it. And she wasn’t a part of that. Hadn’t been a part of that.

When Kara had left, not a word spoken, she had been a shell of the brilliance Alex had once known. The Kara today, reminded Alex of that radiant sun she had first met.

Fingers brushing against something rough, Alex looked up. There, pages bent, lying amidst the dust Alex was never an enthusiast to clean, was her book. Thrown like an afterthought; read like a bible.

Clutched against her chest like plated armour, Phen nuzzling into her hip, Alex allowed the tears to flow freely, “When will I be enough, Phen?” she choked out, “When will I finally  _be enough_?”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be careful with your words. Once they are said, they can be only forgiven, not forgotten.
> 
> Sarah Doubts

It took six weeks to return to full duty.

Alex offered the department two additional time slots. A chance to teach.

Instinct said to work: work to forget; work to disappear.

“You’re only human,” Vasquez said as she opened the door, gesturing Alex in.

“Thank you, V,” It was an appreciation meant for more than just the opened door, “I discussed it. With my therapist. Did you know that when I was seven, I thought I would be a high school science teacher?”

“What changed?”

“Pensions,” Alex joked, far too amused by her own wit, “But I agreed that if… if I started to go back… I promised.”

Responsibility said: work but don’t forget; think but don’t escape; teach but be taught.

“You’ll always have me,” offered Vasquez with a warm half smile and shoulder bump, “Please don’t forget that.”

Bumping shoulders back, Alex smiled, “What did I ever do to deserve you, V?”

“Just be you.”

-

Meeting James felt like a knife burrowing deep, twisting and vengeful. Alex never asked for this. She never wanted this.

If her therapist were here, Alex imagined she’d say something like ‘Life never happens the way we want it to’ or ‘would you like to talk about it’. But Alex didn’t want to talk about it. She didn’t want to feel it. Any of it. But the smile on Kara’s lips - bright - and the glint in her eyes - sparkling - caught Alex like quicksand.

He seemed to treat her right. Like she always deserved. It hurt, but Alex only ever truly wanted the best for Kara. And maybe she wasn’t it. Not then. Not now.

Returning the handshake in kind, Alex grimaced. She hoped it at least looked close to some vague form of happiness.

At least Winn seemed awkward enough for the both of them, his bumbling introduction and tumbling over his own toes drawing the attention and laughter of Kara. He seemed nice.

Kara seemed happy. Moved on.

Alex probably should too.

-

“I met her friend and boyfriend,” the word felt rancid tumbling past her lips. But it was the reality that existed and Alex knew pretending anything different would only drive her mad.

“How did it go?”

“I hated it. It felt wrong. Like when I used.”

“So why did you do it?”

Exhaling and sinking further into the faux leather, Alex picked at the lint present on her sweater. Fall weather. “Morbid curiosity?” swallowing the bitterness, Alex continued, “She’s happy.”

“And what about you? Are you happy too, Alex?”

“I wouldn’t say I’m happy but I’m not unhappy either,” Alex paused, “She deserves to be happy.”

“I think she would say the same for you.”

-

“James says we should do something together, the three of us. Winn too. If you’re okay with that.”

She didn’t like any of it and as Kara sat across the table, chattering about idle things, like three years ago had never happened, Alex knew she couldn’t. Not like this. Not anymore. She deserved better. They both did.

Alex had thought she could do this: coffee, friends.

But coffee with an old friend was one thing. Coffee with the woman Alex still very much loved was another. Kara was happy and Alex was lying. Lying when she had said she could do this. Lying when she had said everything was okay.

It wasn’t and she still wasn’t and Alex knew it had to stop.

-

Phen meowed; hot and angry.

Cutting the apple that would be part of her lunch, Alex sighed, “Why are you mad at me?”

Another meow.

“Yeah, well, I get that you like her. I do too, but it’s more complicated than that, Phen,” the apple slices were bagged and tossed into a generic black backpack littered with faded Sharpie sketches. Vasquez’s insistence that black was just  _too broody_. “She’s happy now,”  _without me_ , “I need to be happy too.”

Alex flinched when the feline made one final sound before stalking off. The feeling of abandonment churned violently in her gut.

“I am enough. I am enough,” Alex repeated, white knuckled and clammy skinned, like a mantra for water amidst the desert.

-

Alex hunched over the lab table, preparing to plate samples.

“How are you doing?” Vasquez asked. She never asked.

“Me?” Alex looked up from her mixing in surprise.

Sterilizing a loop, Vasquez nodded.

“Oh. Okay I guess,” Alex said with a pause, “Kara moved back. I bumped into her with Phen during my sabbatical. We grabbed coffee. I met her boyfriend.”

The loop stuttered across the agar, cutting unintentionally through the middle, “I’m sorry, did you say Kara? As in Kara Zorel?”

“Mhm. She’s happy, V,” Alex felt like she was trying to convince herself more than state an observation, “But I- I don’t think I can do it. Be friends. I can’t  _unlove_  her like it’s some switch in my brain and all I have to do is  _flick_.”

“No, I don’t imagine anyone can. Not if they love the way you do.”

Sealing the sample, the plating just not happening, Alex asked curiously, “What do you mean?”

“When you love, you love like they’re air and you’re trapped under water.”

Alex wasn’t sure if she liked the analogy but she couldn’t say Vasquez was wrong. Vasquez knew Kara. Knew the way Alex had loved her. Knew the way she pretended to love everyone else that came after.

“Why now? Not that I don’t appreciate it, but we’ve been friends for years and we’ve only had these conversations when you were drunk or drugged out of your mind. I know you’ve been working on this but  _this_? This feels different.”

Leaning back in her chair, Alex took a moment to collect her thoughts. Vasquez was right. Alex had never been an overly open person, not before and certainly not after. She shared parts - nothing too serious or too honest. The drugs and alcohol loosened her tongue, lowered her inhibition. But only to Vasquez. So what had made  _this_ , any different?

“I guess, you could leave at any moment. Pack your bags. Disappear. I’ve spent my entire life so afraid - to not be good enough, to be abandoned, to hurt or be hurt, to believe - that I forgot I still have to live,” holding out her hand, Alex showed the tremors that gripped her body, a physical manifestation of a once only mental fear, “I’m still terrified to be honest, but I guess I just realised that tomorrow will still come regardless.”

Vasquez nodded, taking the trembling hand and settling it down on the polished steel surface, “Thank you for being honest with me, lil’ pup. It means more to me than you might think. So where did you learn all this? Your therapist?”

“No,” Alex scoffed, squeezing back at the hand that lie in hers, “Winnie the Pooh. Geez, get with the program, V. What rock do you live under?”

The seriousness that had once punctuated the room slipped into rounds of rich laughter.

-

“Hel-lo?” Alex answered, dazed and hidden beneath a mound of blankets.

It was only mid autumn and Alex had already felt the cold seep into her bones, hunker down, and refuse to leave. It didn’t help that out of sheer spite, she refused to touch the thermostat: too early to concede that kind of defeat.

“Alex?”

Alex blinked. Once. Twice. Drawing the phone away and attempting to focus her eyes on the glow of the screen, “Kara?” Alex asked, confused.

There was a silent pause punctuated by sniffling, “I know it’s late and I probably shouldn’t have- have called. I just- can I come in? Please?”

“Come in?” asked Alex, still addled with the remnants of sleep. Reality or dream, Alex couldn’t be certain. She had dreamt  _so much_. At its worst, Alex had failed to differentiate between the two.

Phen meowed from the other room. An oddity considering he liked to sleep on the bed. It was soft, plushy, and secretly, he was a king. Or so he seemed to think.

Cautiously, Alex slipped from the bed, following the sound. In the living room, Phen sat pawing the apartment door, meowing softly.

Through the door, Alex heard it. The pain that bled through the speaker of her phone and that haunted every nightmare Alex had ever had.

“Kara?” Alex whispered shakily. On the other side of the door, in every dream, every nightmare, it was always pain. Kara was always gone.

“I’m sorry Alex, I didn’t know what else to do. I just- I-”

It bled through the door in a way that felt  _too real_.

Breathing slow, controlled and measured, Alex opened the door, catching Kara in disbelief. The tears were real. The warmth of her skin too hot. The beat of her heart too fast.

“Kara, what are you doing here?” There was no anger, only concern. 

Sobbing into the nape of her neck, body shaking like a leaf in the wind, all Alex could make out were: bad day, CatCo and fighting. She assumed the rest.

“Come on, let’s get you warmed up. I think I’ve got an old sweater somewhere.”

-

The sound of rustling woke Alex.

Turning over on the couch, she groaned, “Phen. Sleep.”

The soft chuckle that was certainly not Phen echoed through the cold apartment and Alex shot up in an instant. Seated cross legged not far away was Kara, thumbing through a book Alex recognized all too well.

“Kara,” Alex uttered, crumbling back into the couch, throat suddenly parched. The memories of earlier this morning returning: Kara upset; Alex unsure. By the time Kara had settled, it was too late and with no guest room, Alex offered her own, taking the couch.

“I didn’t know you read these types of books,” Kara said.

“My therapist recommended it,” Alex murmured. The shrug casual, an attempt to distract from the thin veil that masked her life. The same veil Kara was currently attempting to lift.

“You have a therapist?”

Alex couldn’t. And yet here she was. Unable to speak. Unable to  _look_. The tears burned, hot and acidic in the corners of her eyes: shame; anger; hurt.

“Yeah, I have a therapist, Kara. Twice a month for the past three years. Rain or shine.”

“Wha- why?” It was heavy, laced with question after question and memories that just weren’t there.

It felt  _expectant._

“What do you want me to say, Kara?” Alex choked, slipping further back into the comforts of the couch. Familiarity in unfamiliar territory. “That I was fucked up? That when  _you_ left, I didn’t get better? That it took almost dying to finally make me realise that maybe -  _maybe_ \- I wasn’t ready to let go?  That I just wanted _to live_ but I didn’t know how anymore? Yeah, Kara, I read  _those kind_ of books and I have  _that kind_  of therapist - the “I’m crazy” kind - because  _that’s all I had left_.”

There was no going back, no words to fix it and the silence felt more suffocating than freeing. Alex had always imagined this, telling Kara, and how it would feel a little like being able to breathe again.

It didn’t. Not like this. And certainly not mixed with an accusation Alex wasn’t all too sure she believed.

Grabbing her jacket from the hook, keys from the bowl, Alex paused mid exit, “I- There’s things you can make in the fridge. Please lock the door when you leave.”

-

It was cold seated on the concrete step. But over the numbness of her heart and the overwhelming thoughts in her mind, Alex felt nothing.

Running a risk of hypothermia was no smarter than using to forget or drinking to numb. It was stupid, foolish, and Alex knew better.

Scrolling through her phone, hands trembling, Alex found the name she was looking for, “Hey, V? I know. Can you do me a favour and cover my 10am? My lesson plan is on my desk.”

Getting back into her car, Alex turned over the engine, cranking the heat high, “V? I’m not going to do anything stupid. I just need some time. To think.”

-

When Alex got back, the apartment was empty, save Phen who looked on with concern.

Unsure she could crawl into her own bed - knowing full well the scent that lingered - Alex curled back into the couch. Phen perched atop her chest.

“I thought I would feel better, Phen. But I don’t,” embracing the small feline, Alex mumbled into his fur coat, “It just hurts and I can’t take it back.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The 3 C’s in Life:
> 
> Choice, Chance, Change
> 
> You must make the choice, to take the chance, or your life will never change.
> 
> Zig Ziglar

“Orion.” **  
**

“It’s smoggy as shit, V.”

“Argo Navis.”

“Ar- V, that isn’t even a recognized constellation!” Alex huffed in indignation, each huff momentarily visible.

“Okay, Dr. Know-It-All.”

Neither acknowledged just why - or rather for whom - Alex had learned all the constellations, former and present. Space was vast. As were the healing holes of a broken heart.

The central air kicked on, the fan loud and obnoxious. It mixed with the city traffic to form an orchestral travesty only Vasquez and Alex would hear.

Back pressed into the rough surface of the roof, Alex squirmed. An overly sharp edge pressed into the blade of her shoulder, “Ursa Minor!” The words tumbled past her lips. Kara’s favourite: one with Polaris and always present. As Alex had once been.

Vasquez snorted, “Now who’s seeing things?”

It was Friday night. 

From the roof of the Biomed building, the sounds of ambulance and other emergency response vehicles filtered up, the hospital the next roof over. 

There were no tests to run, no lectures to prepare, only good company on a night Alex had once spent swaying to the rhythm of a bass, intoxicated on God only knows what.

Drumming her fingers against her stomach, Alex felt the itch: to drink; to suck back the toxic plumes of smoke deep into her lungs; to ingest the latest greatest home brewed concoction.

“I was so afraid,” Alex blurted out, “I thought that having Kara back in my life,” eyes squeezed shut, Alex whispered, “That I’d slip back. Back to what I was. No,  _to the habits_  that I had,” she amended.

A cold wind whipped across the night sky, unforgivingly bitter.

Tears swelling, chest heaving, Alex whimpered, “But she isn’t even here, V and it still hurts. Chasing her away didn’t make it any better,” roughly wiping away the trail of hot tears, Alex professed vehemently, “ _I miss her_.”

Alex felt the warmth - a shoulder pressed against her own - and in a moment of vulnerability, stripped bare, she rolled onto her side, pressing into the arms that caught her, “V, I miss her  _so_ much,” broken were the sobs, “Why am I so selfish?”

“You’re just human. A human who wants to find purpose and who wants to be loved,” Vasquez reasoned, carding her fingers soothingly through Alex’s short brown hair, “And sometimes, you have to fit your own oxygen mask in order to help someone else. You forgot how to breathe, Alex. Learning again isn’t easy and it won’t always feel right, but if you give up trying,  _then_ you become selfish.”

-

“I hoped I might find you here.”

Alex jumped.

Phen shot across the grass, quick to spring into Kara’s awaiting arms. Her laughter warmed the cold autumn air.

“Kara,” It felt like a prayer uttered in desperation, “What are you doing here?”

“Apologizing,” Kara confessed, Phen purring happily in her arms, “It wasn’t fair. Showing up at your apartment like that. And after everything you said… I’m sorry, Alex, I didn’t think- I never thought.”

Plucking at the lasts bits of green grass, Alex shrugged awkwardly. 

Kara had always been taller and a part of Alex had always struggled to meet her gaze. It felt a little part like inferiority, a little part like fear. Fear that one day Kara would realise, with her eyes set much higher, that there was someone with so much more to offer than Alex ever could.

“Why would you?” It wasn’t meant to be short but it was, “I never told you,” Alex amended, the blades of grass trapped beneath her fingers the only thing in existence. It drew her focus: a conduit for the tremors that held her hostage, “It hurt when you left but I was a mess before I ever met you, Kara. It was never your responsibility to fix me. Only I could do that.”

Settling down where the walkway and grass met, Kara nodded, “Maybe, but that didn’t make it right. To just walk away like that. And then to just waltz back in and act like nothing happened. I was hurt, Alex, but so were you. And that kind of pain doesn’t just disappear. I should have-”

“Please don’t. Don’t say something you can’t take back, Kara,” Alex begged, fingers suffocating in their grip around the grass, unintentionally catching chunks of earth. It felt cold; rough; easily broken, “I’ve done enough of that for the both of us. We can’t go back, only forwards. And I have to learn to be okay with this,” she motioned between them, “Our lives are different now.”

“Alex?”

“Hm?”

“Why does that sound a lot more like a goodbye then hello?”

Alex tensed.

Phen squirmed, slipping from Kara’s arms. He darted across the browning grass, head connecting solidly with Alex’s stomach before he settled between her legs. His gaze was dutiful. Unwavering.  It felt comforting. A little less lonely, “I never thought I’d see you again, Kara.”

“But you did,” her voice cracked.

“I did,” Alex wavered. 

It would have been so much easier to just lie, to tell Kara what Alex thought she might want to hear. But Alex remembered how she could barely breathe, “And I can’t, Kara,” To choose to breathe first wasn’t wrong, “Whatever  _this_ is, I was barely afloat without it.  _I love you_ , Kara, but  _I lost you_ and I have to come to terms with that. I need to fix me before I can ever hope to fix whatever  _this_ is with us.”

-

“Do you think I was wrong?”

“What makes you ask that, Alex?”

Stooped over the shoulder of the couch - faux leather - Alex replied, “I want the affirmation you can’t give me. I want you to say I did the right thing so that  _this_ ,” Alex motioned to her chest, “Won’t hurt so much.”

“Would my affirmation really make you feel better?”

“No,” Alex snorted, “But if I pretend hard enough, it might.”

“How long do you want to pretend for, Alex?”

“I used to think an eternity. But now? Now I’m not so sure.”

-

“Can you believe it?”

Alex chopped into the onion, cursing her decision to add the foul vegetable, “Sounds like Cambridge has blown your mind, Grierson. Careful, you might not have anything left. Then who will silly string, V, with me?”

The laughter that reverberated through the speaker brought a smile to her lips. It temporarily muted her cognitive processing and its insistence that Alex really  _did no_ t like onions.

“Dr. Danvers,” there was a sudden hesitance, “Are you… crying?”

“Stupid onions,” Alex spat with an unnecessarily forceful chop.

The laughter returned, “Ms. Vasquez always said you hated onions. I never believed her.”

“The devil’s food.”

“So why eat it?” inquired Grierson sensibly.

“The recipe called for onions.”

Chucking the outer shell into the trash and the sliced portion into the soup, Alex huffed. Why else would she eat it?

“You realise that isn’t like, law, right Dr. Danvers? You can modify recipes. Substitute ingredients,” the mirth was palpable even half way across the world.

Alex paused. The thought had never crossed her mind. It was just so ingrained: there was a list - ingredients - and no one had ever said anything differently. 

Why else would there be ingredients? Steps? 

The book stacked - the third in the pile - next to the head of her bed, foggy but still present, came to mind: the power of  _a simple habit._ Wrong or right. Founded of unfounded. 

“Grierson, if you utter another word of sensible genius… I’m going to have to make new friends.”

“All over onions? Gosh, you must really hate them, Dr. Danvers.”

It felt a little less like onions and recipes and a little more like understanding and life. 

“Onions and I are are like two electrons, Grierson: we repel.”

So simple.

Alex laughed until her sides hurt, Grierson joining in millions of miles away.

-

It had become a place of safety.

The ceramic pressed against her skin - prickling and hot - like a soothing balm to any malady. Phen perched atop her chest, his gray-green eyes watchful.

“When I was twelve, I promised to be steadfast; loyal,” Alex murmured, words slurring from exhaustion.

It was half past four.

Alex hadn’t slept, her mind amuck with a restless energy she hadn’t felt for quite some time. When she was younger, it had been more common place, the insomnia. Sometimes it bled the second and third day together in such a way that Alex would often lose track of time. No amount of warm baths or sleeping cocktails had ever soothed the incessant buzz that refused her body sleep.

In two more hours, the alarm on her nightstand would startle to life, loud enough to rouse the dead.

“I thought, if- if I could be those, someone would… love me. But you know what, Phen?” Alex asked, more rhetoric than inquisitive as she blundered on, “I thought I was that. But I had no boundaries. Like, who thinks it’s healthy to be subservient? That isn’t loyalty.”

Eyes drooping, Alex mumbled, “I was living for their acceptance,” her tongue caught against the roof of her mouth, coarse and abrasive like sandpaper, “But dying from their rejection. I don’t… want to die anymore. Let’s live, okay?”

As Alex teetered in and out of consciousness, the moon barely visible through the tiny window pane, hidden behind the gloomy clouds of early winter, Phen purred. Resolute and loyal.

-

The soles of her shoes squeaked across the linoleum.

“Shush shush shush!” Vasquez whispered, squeaking in no less quietly.

“Don’t you shuu-  _What_ are you wearing?” Alex whispered back in grotesque horror, “We aren’t mugging anyone here!”

“You tell that to Dr. Palmard when he realises what we’re about to do.”

Alex might have rolled her eyes but that didn’t stop her from triple checking the hall, “Whatever, V. Quick in, quick out. Simple extraction.”

Vasquez made a gesture that could have passed as a salute. By a barely mobile infant, “Yes, ma’am!”

The tuck, duck and roll was highly unnecessary. But stealing from the fifth floor sacred stash of Dr. Palmard’s most guarded M&M’s - faculty expensed - made the future bruises worth every ridiculous moment of it.

-

The wood felt familiar.

Settling in the first of many bound covers, Alex hummed.

Her father had loved this - to work with his hands, molding scraps into re-imagined beauty. And Alex had loved to do this with him. When he hummed, it made her heart soar. When he smiled, bold and brilliant, it made her lips curl skyward. And when he laughed, it made her erupt, ensnared by jubilance.

Arranging by subject then author, Alex felt the weight she had been carrying for days, weeks, maybe months, sloughing off.

Stepping back, she stood, a proud smile etched on her lips. The book shelf stood tall, rough around the edges with amateurish mistakes. But it was her’s. Something she had made. Something she had filled.

Along the bottom sat the thick spines: texts of a field, of a career choice. The rest, Alex had filled with the spines she thought she would never touch, some thick, some thin. But each were well worn, dog eared and marked, notes scribbled in between the lines and in the margins of the pages.

Reality.

Each represented a moment: a struggle. Past. Present. Future.

Life was not easy. But these? These had become the tools that sharpened the weapons Alex brought into the fight called life. 

Prayers didn’t make change. She did.

-

“I’ve changed,” Alex said wistfully from the couch - faux leather. Internally changed. The way Alex sunk into the faux leather had not.

“And how do you feel about that?”

“Sometimes I feel like I’m naked and exposed, standing before a panel, intent on finding a prognosis for a disease that isn’t there. They’re judging and far too critical. It makes me feel less human and more specimen, less worthy and more disgusting.”

“And the other times?”

“I feel like I’m not perfect but at least I’m not the mess that I was. I’m laughing more - able to take moments to just be. The thoughts still pop up - like  _I’m not good enough_  or  _what makes you think you’re any different_. They aren’t easy,” Alex mused, wondering when the room had stopped feeling like a chamber built for suffocation and a little more like a home. Like safety, “But most days I can take them for what they are. Stories I’ve made up. My inner critic; the inner cynic fed by the fear of the unknown.”

For the first time since Alex had begun her mandatory therapy, she allowed her eyes to meet those seated across from her. To hold them for more than a passing second before fleeting away, uncomfortable and forlorn, “Thank you.”

Mandatory had ended fourteen months ago. 

“You’re welcome, Alex,” there was no pen, no paper, “And you’re right, you have changed. And I am  _so proud_ of you. From where you began to where you are today,” One human to another, “This will always be a journey, Alex - and it will always be uphill - but I want you to know, we only made it here because you chose to. I was just a guide, to walk the road beside you, when you chose to step.”


End file.
